


Earthly Delights

by mistrali



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25708861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistrali/pseuds/mistrali
Summary: For the Goldenlake Triathlon (Summer/Winter).
Relationships: Ishabal Ladyhammer/Berenene dor Ocmore
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Floriana

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 'Cold Snap'.

Berenene's chestnut hair tumbled around her shoulders. "They're all gone, Isha," she said helplessly. "Do you know how much these cost?" She gathered up the little flowers in a handkerchief, like a shroud. What a waste of gold. Never mind that she had two gardens, each with scores of native blooms. Here she was despairing over lilies.

In some ways she was as simple as a child, thought Isha. The thought had that double edge of fondness and exasperation that she felt whenever she considered the new empress. Set an untried girl to rule and this was what you risked.


	2. Open Season

Isha spent three days asleep after the border wall fell. She thought it fitting revenge for her curse on Trisana.

It was a shame the four hadn’t stayed. Trisana would have been a splendid war mage. She had trained, controlled power and she could wield it like a whip. It was a shame the girl hadn’t the stomach for it. With the right training, moreover, she might have channeled her ocean-sized store of magic and that temper of hers into curses with catapult-strength behind them, with runes and oils to contain and collapse all that wild lightning energy into something fluid and forceful. Instead she had sent the empire’s strongest mages to lick their wounds in a corner.

Isha didn’t anticipate visitors, though it was her first day doing more than sipping on vile teas and potions and sleeping. Quen was as feeble as Isha and was in Berenene’s bad books besides, and most other courtiers stayed away from their wing of the palace. That suited Isha fine: she had no wish to be seen lying here as weak as a kitten. Besides, she had a feeling she wouldn’t remain chief mage for much longer; the role would be vacant to any handsome, talented up-and-comers from the Empire, likely some mage from far-flung parts who would find the imperial purse difficult to resist.

When she heard a familiar voice on the stairs, just before dawn on the fifth morning of her enforced bedrest, dread curdled into certainty. So, then, Berenene had spared Isha the indignity of dismissing her before the open court. Was it better or worse, to be exiled from the palace in disgrace under cover of darkness? Preferable, certainly, to being kidnapped and put to death.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” said Isha, and tried to bow. The movement sent pain rocketing down her shoulder blades. Clenching her jaw, Isha ignored it.

Berenene was as lovely as ever. Even with sleep-mussed hair tumbling from its dark red pins and a face bare of paint, she was resplendent in a burgundy robe over a sheer gold nightgown, sans breastband, that clung to every curve.

Isha wondered if she had come from Quen’s bed - from the look of her lips, and the love-bites on her neck, she had not slept alone last night - then shrugged off the thought. Quen was the jealous sort, inclined to play his cards too recklessly when it came to sex. One day that jealousy would get him a minor merchant’s daughter as a contract-bride and lands on the Rusalki tundras, far to the northwest. Isha herself had never minded Berenene bestowing her affections on her fellow courtiers, men or women. She was as selective in her confidants as in her bedmates. She courted the powerful, the gifted, the wealthy and the beautiful, and shone upon them all like a flame, benevolent, indiscriminate and dangerous.

“Isha.” Berenene’s voice had no inflection, and her mouth was turned up at the corners in a mockery of a smile. “What a shame it had to come to this. I shall give you ten days’ rest until the healers say you can be discharged. After that, you may pack your things.”

Isha didn’t say _I told you so_. It was no use. Cheated of her prize, Berenene would sulk for a week and then move on to the next hunt: in flirtations as in empires and mages. She might change her mind and call Isha back from whatever godsforsaken corner of Namorn she had banished her to, or she might not.


	3. Glitter and Furbelows

A walk, it seemed, was Berenene's way of cornering Briar. He found her waiting on the stairs at the far edge of the embankment near the palace. 

"Can I help you, Your Majesty?” 

“There are some cattails growing wild at the corner of that pond. I thought we might discuss a better arrangement - perhaps another kind of reed.”

And I’m Duke Vedris, thought Briar. Aloud he said, “I'm not fond of reeds, Your Majesty. They're too tall and prickly for my liking. And they encroach." 

Even her shrug was graceful. "They may look hardy here, but the Syth freezes them and swans pick them off in the summer. A pity there are no trellises for such wild things.”

She sighed, and for a moment Briar couldn't resent her. When did I start thinking all these fine nobles were human, he thought.

"You understand beauty," she said quietly. They were silent for a while, looking out at the sheet of water glimmering in the twilight. “I wish my courtiers did. They were raised on glitter and furbelows.”


End file.
